


How Could I Ask For More?

by StarlitSky



Series: A Not So Delicate Flower [3]
Category: Mario Story | Paper Mario, Super Mario Bros., Super Mario RPG: Legend of the Seven Stars
Genre: F/M, Family, Followup, Motherly love, One Shot, Romance, Sequel, Twins, first person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-03
Updated: 2011-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-26 20:00:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlitSky/pseuds/StarlitSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shot followup to He Doesn't See Me and Incomplete Without Him. Both tales should be read first for this one to make sense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Could I Ask For More?

It was initially a little difficult for me to tell the difference between night and day in Darkland, but I had been here long enough now that I could read its rhythm. When I woke from my afternoon nap, I could tell nighttime was near, and I slipped out of bed and tiptoed barefoot down the hall, where I stopped and rested my hands on the cool sill of an open window.

The sky above was a coil of deep blue and rich black, lightly streaked with violets and purples--a lovely palette that calmed my heart. Heavy dark clouds drifted lazily overhead, but I had noticed some time ago, when I happened to be wandering restlessly one night, that there was a small patch of stars directly above and a little to the left, almost in line with the bedchamber I shared with my husband.

They glittered like tiny pinpoints poked into the velvety blue-black, like any other set of stars, but one of them seemed to stand out from the rest, shining just a little brighter, and glowing persistently even when a cloud blotted out the light of the others. I had to wonder, was it...? I had no way of knowing. But I sure liked to think so.

"Little Rose, what are you doing out of bed?"

With a quiet huff of air, I turned from the window and tugged my robe tighter around my slender nightgown. "I've done almost nothing but lie in bed for weeks," I grumbled. "I'm bored."

"And still weak as a newborn kitten," Bowser told me firmly, his tone mildly scolding. "Come on, you're too pale to be wandering around."

"I'm _always_ pale," I reminded him impatiently, but I didn't protest as he scooped me up and carried me, bridal-style, back to our bedchamber.

"Maybe so, but you're going to keep resting until you're as pale as warm cream instead of skim milk."

"You expect too much, my love," I sighed, though I smiled as he propped me against the mound of satin pillows on the bed and tucked the velvet blanket around me.

Bowser moved away from the bed, and I let my eyes drift around the room. Honestly, I had little reason to leave these days, since everything I asked for was brought directly to me. I only felt like wandering because there weren't any windows here, but beyond my quiet need to look at the sky sometimes, I had everything I could want. A warm bed, a quietly crackling fireplace, a beautiful grand piano for whenever I felt like playing, a desk for writing letters or composing songs...and an additional bit of furniture that was added only a few short weeks ago, which Bowser was now leaning over. A cradle made of polished wood.

I sat up straighter and felt, as I always did when someone else handled him, a tiny flutter of motherly nerves as my husband lifted our son and cradled him in his large hands. Even though Bowser handled him like he was more delicate than spun glass, the sight of his fragile pink flesh in those clawed hands made me understandably tense. Knowing I felt this way, my dear husband only held him long enough to hand him to me, and I gratefully settled back against the pillows again as I held him close and kissed his satin-soft forehead.

Since relations between a koopa and someone like myself weren't exactly common, no one had really been sure just what we were going to end up with once I gave birth. What we got was a virtual copy of myself. The same straight black hair, the same fair skin, the same deep green eyes. Oh, he was a little pink and mottled right now, but I could already tell he was going to turn as ivory-like as me in a year or so.

Bowser and I discussed a wide variety of names before he was born, but the moment he was first placed in my arms, the name Rubell popped into my head, and that was what I lovingly called him. My heart filling with motherly warmth, I kissed him again and snugged the plush blanket he was wrapped in tighter around him. He responded with a quiet yawn and blinked his sleepy green eyes at me.

By the cradle, Bowser was cuddling the little surprise that had followed Rubell. I was so lucky, I had been carrying number nine _and_ ten.

Chuckling softly, Bowser carried the fidgeting bundle over and sat beside me, carefully so not to jostle the bed too much. I had far less misgivings about him cradling our sweet daughter, since she was safely protected by her shell...which I still wonder how I managed to deliver her without dire complications. Kammy had given me something--for the pain, she said--that all but numbed my mind, so the night of the birth was a little fuzzy to me. Which was probably a good thing.

As I thought back on the discomfort that began almost right from the start, I was a little amazed I had gotten through the lengthy pregnancy as well as I did. And I had a feeling I knew where most of that discomfort had stemmed from, especially in the later months. My little daughter was quite the kicker.

She was kicking her tiny feet that very moment as she squirmed around inside her blanket, looking like she was dissatisfied to only be viewing life from a distance with her amber eyes--eyes I could already picture blazing as forcefully as her father's. I recognized that hint of frustration, that need to get out into the world and explore, that want to experience things up close.

Chuckling again, Bowser adjusted his hold. "Easy, little one," he cooed, "you'll be off running at full speed in no time."

"No doubt," I agreed.

Little Rue, on the other hand, was content to fall asleep in my arms. His twin continued to squirm, apparently unaffected by her father's gentle rocking and quiet, rumbling voice. She blinked her bright eyes at him and wrinkled her little koopa nose; Bowser smiled lovingly and kissed the top of her head, which was downy with rapidly growing curls.

They were an unusual color--fiery red with thin streaks of black. Wendy was awfully jealous, and for more reason than one. She kind of had to share the title of Daddy's Little Girl these days.

From the moment he first held her, it was clear that Bowser adored our tiny daughter intensely. He insisted we name her Rosella--another name that wasn't on our list of possibilities. I objected at first because it was so similar to my own name, but minutes after she was born she was nicknamed Elsie, and that was what everyone called her. Junior doted on her in particular, tickled pink to be a big brother. There was a strong resemblance between the two of them, too--though thankfully, Elsie doesn't have any spikes on her shell. I don't even want to think about how her birth might have gone if she did.

Eventually, my squirmy little daughter stopped kicking and grew drowsy, and Rue woke up long enough for me to give them both their evening meal before their father carried them back to the cradle. Then he came back to bed, tucked me in, and stroked my hair until I drifted off to sleep.

When I opened my eyes again, the room was quiet except for the soft crackle of the smoldering fireplace. The light of the dying flames glowed on the black surface of the piano, the only light in the otherwise dark bedchamber. It could have been any time of day, but I could tell it was early morning.

I could also tell from how I didn't wake up feeling like I was sinking into the impression my husband made in the mattress that he was already up and about. But I wasn't alone; there was someone much smaller curled up behind me, breathing quietly. Smiling, I stretched for a moment, then rolled over--only I didn't find who I thought I would.

'You're not Junior,' I felt like saying, but held my tongue as I blinked in surprise at the tangle of blue hair on the next pillow. Flushing bashfully, Ludwig tugged the blanket up over his nose. "I got lonely," he mumbled.

I blinked a moment more...and then a feeling of happiness crept into my heart, quietly warming me to my toes. Smiling softly, I scooted closer, brushed back his messy shock of hair and kissed his forehead. He slowly moved the blanket down, and I settled back on the pillow as we looked at each other. I didn't say anything, and neither did he. Not until he rolled onto his shell and looked across the room at the crib, where the twins still slept.

In a very quiet voice, he said, "They're really lucky to have you as their mom."

That was what he said...but I knew that wasn't what he meant. Eyes moistening, I slipped my arms free of the covers and put them around him. I half-expected him to grow embarrassed and move away, but instead he settled closer, his head resting on my shoulder. I'm not sure how long we stayed like that, lying close and quiet in the silence, something deeper and more meaningful than any word we could have spoken passing between us.

When a heavy set of footsteps that quietly rattled the furniture neared, Ludwig hastily let go, rolled out of bed and, looking embarrassed, scurried out of the room as his father came in. His smile knowing, Bowser came and knelt beside the bed, resting his head next to mine on the pillow. "I knew I made a good choice when I picked you," he said slyly, coiling a lock of my hair around his finger.

"I picked you first," I reminded him teasingly.

"Hey, you won't get any argument from me that you've got excellent taste."

I laughed and poked him; grinning, he captured my hand, followed by my lips. His mouth tasted extra rich and smoky, and I was a little disappointed when he pulled away a short moment later. Propping his chin on his palm, his gaze drifted across the room and settled on the cradle. "The best gift ever," he noted softly. His eyes returned to me as he smirked. "Well, aside from you, of course."

I didn't smile as I sat up and put my arms around his neck. "This is my greatest gift, too," I said seriously. "You, and this kingdom, and everything and everyone in it. I have more than I could ever want right here."

His expression turning solemn, Bowser rested his hands on my waist and held me gently. "You don't need to convince me, little Rose," he said quietly. "I know you love me just as much as I love you."

He'd been telling me that ever since the night I told him I was expecting, but the words never failed to make my heart swell with emotion. I tightened my arms with a happy sigh. "Life couldn't be more perfect," I noted, my tone turning dreamy. "I love everything just the way it is."

I paused as I thought of something. "And I do mean everything," I added, a hint of warning creeping into my voice. "I don't intend to add number thirteen to our not so little family."

Bowser appeared to consider this for a moment. "You're right," he said, nuzzling my cheek. "I think we should round up to fifteen."

I made a sputtering sound. "What are you, crazy?"

He chuckled jovially and kissed me again. "I'll try, but no promises. You're too irresistible."

"Flattering, but...I'd kind of like to keep my figure for a few more years."

"Your mother has five kids, and she still looks great," my husband pointed out slyly.

Grunting, I edged out of his grasp and slid off the bed. "Let's not push it--she never had twins."

Speaking of whom...I padded barefoot over to the cradle and gazed down lovingly at my sweet babies, who were still dreaming quietly. Bowser crept up behind me and rested his hands on my shoulders as he gazed down with me. "I was kidding," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "I think life is perfect just the way it is, too. Just the twelve of us."

I snorted quietly. "'Just' the twelve of us, he says."

He chuckled and kissed my cheek. "Love you too, little Rose. I love you, too."

**Author's Note:**

> Little Rubell's name comes from Rubellite, a form of red gemstone.


End file.
